


A Guide to the Adventures, Marvels, and Dangers of Substitute Wonderland

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Questionable mythology as in i made it up, Scott and Stiles hunt supernatural creatures, Teacher-Student Relationship, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello, I’m Derek Hale, your substitute teacher for the week.”<br/>Stiles fell off his chair.</p><p>aka:</p><p>Derek is a substitute teacher, Stiles earns detention, and meanwhile a supernatural creature is spreading panic in the town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Absence and the Friends that Remind You of It

 

“No.”

“But-”

“No, Stiles, you are _not_ skipping English again!”

Stiles groaned, and ran a hand over his face. His tired, _tired_ face. Seriously, he’d been up until three AM that morning. Stiles was exhausted, and if he had to listen to the ancient Mr. Roebuck go on and on and _on_ about the upcoming assignment – which was Stiles’ current #1 problem in his life, other than almost being eaten by supernatural creatures on a weekly basis – he was going to have a mental breakdown.

Stiles opened his mouth to retaliate-

“No.” Scott interrupted.

“What?! You don’t even know what I was gonna s-”

“No,” Scott said, and that was it – Stiles’ final proof that Scott was definitely the worst best friend in the world.

“Stiles, you can’t leave me!” His – annoying – best werewolf-friend whined. You know, for a supernatural creature that could grow terrifying claws and even more terrifying glowing eyes without a moment’s notice, Scott sure could whine like a 10-year old.

“If you aren’t in there with me, I’ll be _alone_ , dude!” Scott pouted, and his damn puppy eyes blinked at Stiles.

“There are twenty-five other people in the class, Scott, I doubt you’ll be alone.”

“Stiles,” Scott said, giving him an _I’m-serious_ look, which Stiles had to force himself not to laugh at. “What’s your absence percentage on right now?”

“Argh, Scott, don’t remind me!” Stiles groaned and was already seeing where this was heading – to him, listening to Mr. Roebuck’s tiresome voice for an hour. “I’m not gonna kid myself – my percentage of absence is ridiculously high, but whose fault if that? Huh? Maybe the guy who needed help taking down that malevolent fairy last week? Know anything about that, Scott?”

“And I thank you for that,” Scott said indifferently. “But you still have to go to English or the Sheriff will be on your ass, you know!”

“I need to get a better friend.” Stiles mumbled as the two of them entered the classroom.

“Aw, I know you love me, Stiles!” His friend exclaimed goofily, and Stiles ensured him that, no, he did not.

They sat in the back of the class, as far away from the chalkboard as physically possible, and Stiles leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, tilting it on the back legs. His red hoodie was drawn up around his face, and he prepared himself for an hour of not listening to the teacher’s endless droning.

Nothing on Earth could have prepared him for the gorgeousness walking in. Dark hair, broad shoulders, piercing eyes, and if Stiles hadn’t figured out he was bisexual a long time ago, he definitely would have known now.

“Hello, I’m Derek Hale, your substitute teacher for the week.”

Stiles fell off his chair. It was his own fault, he knew. Balancing on the back legs of a chair never had a happy ending for anyone. Face as red as a fire truck, Stiles jumped up from the floor, and muttered a quick apology as he sat down. Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow, but he hurriedly moved on.

Scott nudged Stiles with his elbow, and gave him an enquiring look. Stiles just shrugged nonchalantly. It’s not as if he hadn’t seen a hot teacher (sub, whatever) before, because he had, he had just never seen such a magnificent specimen of male maleness before. And his voice had taken him completely by surprise – hence the literal fall to the floor.

Mr. Hale glanced at Stiles a couple of times throughout the class, but whenever their eyes met, he looked away. It was likely that the substitute teacher only looked at Stiles to check if the fall had given him a concussion – but, hey, Stiles could always pretend that his own chiseled body and handsome face was too tempting to resist a glance at now and again (he snorted loudly at the ridiculous thought).

The deep, rich voice of Derek Hale was quick to lull Stiles, and soon he was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, listening to the soothing hum.

This is, until Scott whispered his name loudly into his ear.

“Huh?”

When Stiles looked up in confusion, the first thing that met his gaze was the angry, huffy expression on the face of the substitute teacher.

“I’m guessing you’re Stiles Stilinski? The teachers warned me about you – they say you cause trouble.” Hale said with an unimpressed look upon his face, and all Stiles could do was gape like a fish. A stupid-looking fish.  
The sub continued after a moment. “Well, I can assure you, if you step an _inch_ out of line, you’ll be spending the most of your spare time in detention, understand?”

By the end of the sentence, Stiles had shaken himself out of the stupor, and mock-whispered to Scott:

“Shit, I thought subs where supposed to be fun, but this one is such a _buzz ki_ -”

“Mr. Stilinski!” Derek Hale’s eyes were boring a hole into Stiles, and the boy could hardly contain the grin threatening to appear. Annoying the new substitute teacher was simply too delicious. It was even worth the Hale’s next words: “Stay after class, the rest of you can leave.”

When the hour was up, the other students – including Scott, though he did send a fleeting look of sympathy in Stiles’ direction – packed up their stuff in a matter of seconds, desperate to get home (Stiles couldn’t really blame them).

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice barked, and he became aware of the fact that the classroom was empty of students. _Just the two of them. And Stiles’ sexual frustration._

“Yes, Derek?” He said with a smirk, still leaned back in his chair. The teacher gestured for him to approach the desk in front of the chalkboard.

“It’s ‘Mr. Hale’.” He grumbled when Stiles finally stood in front of him, with only the desk separating them.

“Well, then it’s ‘Mr. Stilinski’ to you.”

Stiles could have sworn he saw a tiny flicker of an amused smile cross Derek’s lips, but it was gone before he could blink. But no matter the fleeting nature of the almost-smile, Stiles couldn’t resist teasing the older man.

“Was that… a _smile_?” He laughed joyously. “Well, I _do_ learn new things every day, like the fact that you have _emotions_ , Derek-”

“Mr. Hale.” Derek corrected, but Stiles continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“But don’t you worry for a second, I will take that secret to the gra-”

“ _Enough_ , Stil- Mr. Stilinski!” Derek bellowed, and the younger man mock-pouted at the violent outburst. Derek was quiet for a moment. He stared intensely at Stiles, his impressive eyebrows pulled together in a frown that the student had a weird desire to smoothen.

Stiles flinched in surprise when Derek stood from his chair in a graceful move.

“You will stay an hour after class each day of this week – starting tomorrow.”

If this were any other teacher, in any other circumstance, Stiles would have spluttered indignantly and in outrage, and complained to Scott about this teacher’s idiocy for the rest of the year.

However, this time was different. Stiles had, in fact, egged the sub on, teased him, called him by his first name, and, quite plainly, been excessively annoying and Stiles-like. He knew he’d had this coming.

And if he was looking forward to the hours he would soon be spending with Derek, just a _tiny_ bit, it was nobody’s business but his own.

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily for Stiles, he wouldn’t even have to wait until the next day to see Derek again. Stiles was meeting Scott at the new coffee shop by the library. The shop (which was called _Puzzles_ , and Stiles had no idea why) was incredibly crowded as he entered. Maybe it was because it was pouring buckets outside, and people just wanted a dry place and a warm drink. Stiles sat down with a cup of black coffee on a recently vacated stool by the windows. From there he could look out at the people passing by with umbrellas in all colors.

He quickly decided that he liked this place. Puzzles had a certain rustic atmosphere, and everywhere he looked people where chatting and having fun. _Being social,_ Stiles thought. With that thought, he was reminded that he didn’t know anyone in that place. Scott still hadn’t arrived, and a well-known feeling of being alone in a place full of strangers sneaked its way into his mind.

His slow descend into a melancholy state of mind was suddenly interrupted when a deep sigh reached his ears. It came from the person next to him, and when the bulky figure turned toward him, Stiles immediately recognized him.

“You look lost,” The deep voice of Derek Hale said from beside him. Stiles frowned, mostly from surprise of seeing his teacher outside of school.

“I’m not lost. Scott’s just- late.” Stiles said grumpily. Then he remembered who he was talking to, and he was simply too curious to resist the question:

“What are you doing here?”

The substitute teacher gestured to the coffee cup he was holding. “Can’t a teacher have a bit of coffee to drink?”

“Well, I didn’t know teachers did that. I always assumed, when you weren’t working, you all hung out in the school basement or something, and talked about grading and red apples the students had given them that day, and showing off your tweed jackets with elbow patches.”

Derek smiled wryly, and leaned toward him as if he was telling him a secret.

“Before I started sub’ing, I thought so, too.”

“Were you disappointed, then? When there was no secret teacher base underneath the school?”

“Yes, I had been expecting something similar to the batcave, and with those expectations anyone would be disappointed.”

Stiles lost his poker face after that, and laughed uncontrollably. Derek’s smile widened, and Stiles thought about how different this Derek is from the ‘Mr Hale’ at school.

“So, how long will you be a substitute teacher? Like, do you have a plan or whatever?”

“The sub thing is only temporary. This is kind of a trial, in a way, and next school year I’ll have a permanent position as the High School’s English teacher.”

“Oh!” Stiles was surprised by this information. “Is this because Mr. Roebuck is retiring? You’re his replacement?”

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed and took a gulp of his coffee. “Don’t-.. Don’t go around telling everyone. It’s not common knowledge yet.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Stiles asked. He found it interesting how Derek would say all this to _him,_ when he’d just earlier today given him detention for the rest of the week.  
Derek gave him an enquiring look.

“Well, are you planning on telling anyone what I just told you?”

“No,” Stiles responded, because of course he wouldn’t do that if the man didn’t want him to. The teen’s every day consisted of keeping Scott’s werewolf secret. At this point, Stiles was a secret-keeping master. If the act of keeping secrets were a subject at school, he would get an A+.

“Then that’s why.” Derek said, and looked like he wanted to change the subject.

“Oh, you _trust_ me, you big softy.” Stiles teased. “Did I break through that thick emotional armor of yours?”

“Shut up.” Derek said and pushed Stiles playfully with an elbow.

It seemed unreal how comfortable Stiles was around the older man. The conversation flowed easily, and by the time the rain stopped, Stiles had gotten five smiles out of Derek – yes, he counted, don’t judge. Their coffees were cold and forgotten on the table in front of them. But soon they both had to get going. Stiles wanted to say how great this had been, but decided against it. They parted ways, and when the teen got home, he checked his phone, and found a text from Scott – who he’d completely forgotten about – saying he was sorry but that he couldn’t make it to the coffee shop.

 _It’s fine, dude. See you @ school._ He texted back with a smile on his face.


	2. Escapades in Detention and In the Gloom of Night

Stiles had a bit of a bounce in his steps the next day. Even though he had just endured two hours of calculus, another two hours of biology, one hour of history, and he still had detention to attend at the end of that horrendous day; he was happy. Ecstatic, even! And why shouldn’t he be? Well, perhaps all those things listed above should be damn good reasons for not being even a smidgen as over-the-moon as he currently was, but he was sure nobody even _noticed_ his elation!

However, Scott, as a werewolf, had developed a bit of an ability to feel the emotions of humans (through smell, the frequency of heartbeats, etc.), so he quickly picked up on Stiles’ cheerfulness on the way to detention.

“Stiles, you are so hot for teacher, it’s ridiculous.” Scott sighed, and looked at him in a way that spoke of how obvious Stiles’ emotions were.

“Huh- wha-? No-! I don’t-” Stiles stammered, but he knew it was a lost cause trying to defend himself. Scott might have come across as a bit dim at first, but he was _sharp_ now.

Scott raised his eyebrows, and Stiles immediately thought of Derek. His stupidly well-formed eyebrows, and dark eyes that seem to see straight into your very _soul_ -

“Earth to Stiles,” His best friend waved a hand in front of his face, drawing him back into the present.

“Yup!” He exclaimed, and walked around the last corner to the classroom in which he would serve his detention. “See ya later, alligator.”

Scott just shook his head in a manner that spoke of how he’d given up on trying to get through to Stiles. When he crushed on someone, he crushed _hard_. His previous crush had been Lydia Martin, a brilliant and stunning girl with strawberry hair, who’d been the object of Stiles Stilinski’s utter adoration for quite a few years – that is, until she got a scholarship to a private school in Washington D.C. Stiles had been devastated for a while after she’d left, almost to the point of depression, so, yeah, Scott was a bit worried when it came to his best friend’s crushes.

“Hello, teach,” Stiles drawled as he dropped his backpack onto a table in the classroom. The room was empty of people except for Derek and he. Apparently nobody at this school had gotten into trouble and earned detention.

 _Well, more Derek for me, then,_ Stiles thought.

“Hello, Mick,” Derek responded with a frown on his face, and Stiles quickly mirrored it.

“I- I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski?” He said, feeling a lot less confident than he had been a moment ago. Derek skimmed the piece of paper in his hands, and murmured a quiet: “Oh, yes, that’s right. Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry, and it only made the frown deepen on Stiles’ face.

They looked at each other for a second, an uncomfortable silence filling the room.

“You can sit down now.” Derek said matter-of-factly as if he didn’t really understand why Stiles was still standing there. As if Stiles’ presence annoyed him. Suddenly the boy lost all excitement for the coming hour. Suddenly, detention was… a _punishment_ , not an hour with a gorgeous teacher.

 _This turned shitty real quick_ , Stiles thought glumly as he sat down at the back of the classroom, as far away from Derek as possible.

“No phone, no computer. Either do your homework or stare into the wall – either way I couldn’t care less. And keep quiet. Do you think you can handle that for an hour?” Derek said patronizingly, and Stiles was too surprised by the change from the playful banter and the laughs yesterday in the coffee shop to _this_ that he didn’t even respond right away. He quickly nodded though, when he noticed the teacher was awaiting an answer.

The next hour was spent – as Derek had recommended – staring into a wall. A couple of times he heard a _hmph_ from the teacher from where he was grading papers, but silence dominated the room most of the time.

When the hour was through, Stiles didn’t even say goodbye. He just picked up his backpack, swung it over a shoulder, and left without a backward glance. Okay, maybe not _exactly_ without a glance. But seeing the disinterested look on Derek’s face, as he didn’t even acknowledge that Stiles was leaving, was enough to make him regret looking at him.

 

* * *

 

Scott called almost the exact instance Stiles slammed the door of his room closed. He considered not answering since nothing good came of talking to people while being in as foul a mood as he was currently in. But despite that, he still took the call.

“Hey, dude!” Stiles said in a cheerful tone that not at all corresponded to his emotional state.

“Hey, need your help, there’s a rogue- thing. To be honest, I have no fricking idea what it is. Meet-up at my place?”

“Sure,” He responded and let out a long sigh after he hung up. He had a distinct feeling that it was going to be a long night.

Stiles was surrounded. By books, that is. Tons of books were lined up on the floor of Scott’s room: books about countless mythological creatures ranging from Chinese to Greek and everything in-between. He was presently reading like mad in their trusty bestiary, flipping from page to page with eagerness.

A creature had killed a man, and left his body in an alley in the town. The victim was a homeless man in his forties. Nothing particularly note-worthy about him, really.  
Except his death. His death was exceptionally interesting. He had no other marks than an angry-looking burn mark in the middle of his chest. Something had burned right through his clothes, and left a superficial burn mark with a diameter of five inches.

The coroner’s report – don’t ask how Stiles had gotten his fingers on that – suggested the impossibility of the burn mark being the cause of death, so that meant the cause of death was inconclusive. And _that_ meant a very interesting mystery for Stiles to solve.

“Yes!” Stiles jumped up from the floor, startling Scott in the process. “I got you, you tricky _bastard_!” He made his little victory dance, and then explained his findings to his perplexed best friend.

“It’s the spirit of an alpha werewolf. Some ancient cultures tell of alphas whose packs turn on him – or her – and viciously tear the wolf apart. This kills the alpha, but this complete betrayal by its own pack keeps the spirit of the wolf alive. Along the way, if the spirit is particularly powerful, it can manifest a physical form, a wolf, in the world of the living again. After this, its only goal is to gain more power by – get this – ‘extracting the energy of life from humans by burning a circular shape into the chest of its victims’” Stiles says, quoting directly from the bestiary.

“Does it say how we can kill it?” Scott asked eagerly.

“Uh…” Stiles said, reading in the book. “Yes! We have to- huh.”

“What?”

“It says to wring its neck.” He said with a frown.

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah, no, it’s _not_ weird that’s what’s weird! No rituals or blades made from a rare kind of ash wood…”

“Well, that’s good, right? Wring its neck – dead.” Scott grinned. It was unusual for them to come across a creature that sounded so easy to kill.

“Yeah, okay, but I’m guessing I’ll just hang back a bit on this one, since-” Stiles gestured to his friend. “You have all the super wolf-power.”

“Hey, wait, how does it- I don’t know, burn people, if it’s in wolf form?” Scott asked.

“Apparently they gain that ability when they reach a certain level of power in their wolf shape.” He answered, skimming the words on the page.

“Okay, so how do you feel about hunting a werewolf spirit tonight?” His best friend said with a grin.

They left at around midnight, not wanting to draw attention to themselves by hunting out in the open on a Tuesday afternoon. Stiles was armed with a bottle of wolfbane and a giant knife, in case he needed to defend himself, and Scott with his werewolf abilities. They didn’t say so, but they were both a bit nervous. They were up against an alpha werewolf’s spirit. Scott was only a beta, and Stiles – he was only human.

Sure, they had a history of stopping vengeful forest nymphs, the occasional goblin, and a small hydra on one rare occasion. But this was an _alpha_.  
However, it wouldn’t stop killing until it was stopped. And since nobody else seemed to want to obtain the role of hunters of malevolent supernatural creatures, they were going to have to do it. Again. For, like, the third time that month.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ chanted Stiles silently, as he ran past each shop on the street. The shops were all closed, and the street, as the whole town, was dark except for the street lamps that lighted the way for his panicked run.  
The alpha spirit had taken Scott and Stiles completely by surprise. They'd laid out a careful plan: go to the crime scene where it had killed its first (and hopefully last) victim. Now it seemed like not only would the spirit get to kill more people, but that those next victims could likely be Scott and Stiles.  
After they'd arrived at the alley, they'd waited for the spirit to appear. Stiles could in retrospect admit to the stupidity of that plan, because they’d clearly underestimated the power of this specific werewolf. But to be fair, this _was_ their first alpha werewolf spirit.  
When it had appeared, it hadn't come from the opening of the alley as the two of them had expected. No, it had come from behind them. As if it had know they where waiting. Hell, for all they knew, it probably _had_ known they were waiting. There was no telling what abilities this spirit had.

It had sprung out of the solid brick wall, and in a glowing, spirited _rage_ it had thrown itself at the first thing it saw: Stiles. Its heavy body had knocked him onto the hard pavement, and Stiles' ears had rung when the wolf had let out a monstrous roar.  
The wolf managed to knock a thick paw into the side of his face – and Stiles knew it would leave a colorful bruise – before Scott finally joined in, and slammed into the wolf form, successfully freeing Stiles from the creature’s grasp. Its huge jaws had snapped menacingly at Scott until the teen had had to back away in fear of becoming minced wolf meat. After that, they had both run.

Stiles couldn't see Scott in those brief backward glances, but he hoped he had gotten away okay. He suddenly had himself to worry about though, when the spirit wolf jumped though the air and landed gracefully on the pavement in front of the helpless human.

 _I don't want to die,_ Stiles thought. The thought was immediately followed by _I don't want to die with my last thought being so cliché._

Luckily, his best friend had never in his life let him down, and he didn't that night either. Scott stepped out from the shadows of the street, and moved between the wolf and the human. The beta growled at the alpha in front of him. His claws were retracted in preparation for the fight that was surely to come. Then- something strange happened. The wolf seemed to _snort_ at the beta wolf, and a second later it turned and disappeared down the street.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked Stiles. His face ached where the wolf had struck him with a paw, and his breath came quickly because of the adrenaline rush, while he held onto his stomach, where it also hurt – but it was incredible to be alive. Stiles nodded that he was fine, and together they went back to the parking lot where they’d left Stiles’ jeep.


	3. Colors on the Skin, Marks on the Heart

The morning after, his body bore a striking resemblance to a bad artist’s color palate. A dark bruise painted part of his stomach, and his left cheek was bruised an angry reddish purple. If Stiles squinted a bit, he could even see the outline of the wolf’s claws that had left thin trails down the side of his face.  
 _Meh_ , he’d looked worse after a night of supernatural ass kicking, that was for sure. He’d even bought a lotion that worked miracles when it came to healing scratches and bruises. Still, Stiles looked himself in the mirror, and it looked like a freaking freight train had hit him. But no, not a freight train – just the gigantic spirit of an alpha werewolf.

If Stiles didn't move around as much or make the usual flailing gestures with his arms and hands, then he was sure people at school wouldn't notice the bruised – sore as _hell_ – ribs.  
They might not even notice him wince and grimace when he had to rise from his chair. But the bruise on his face was a bit more troublesome to hide. Of course, Stiles could always say he had some kind of accident. With Stiles' bad luck and habit of pissing the wrong people off, it wasn't completely unlikely.

Throwing on a somewhat clean shirt and pants, he descended the stairs carefully; so as to not make his ribs hurt more.

“Good morning, son,” The Sheriff said from his chair at the kitchen table, not even looking up from the newspaper.

“’Morning, Dad, I’m already late, so I’ll be heading to school.”

He hurriedly picked up a piece of toast on his way out of the kitchen, but his father stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“What in god’s name happened to you?” The Sheriff asked and laid down the newspaper on the table. He didn’t sound surprised by seeing his son so black-and-blue. Worried, yes, but not surprised.

“Do you want the truth or the simplified version?” Stiles asked blankly.

“What’s the simplified version?”

“I fell.”

“And the truth?”

“An alpha werewolf spirit beat the bejesus out of me.”

Stiles’ dad let out a deep sigh.

“Is this something I need to worry about? It seems like every time you walk out that door saying ‘going to Scott’s to study’, you look like something the cat dragged in the next morning.”

“I’ll be m-”

“More careful?” John interrupted. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

Stiles looked down at his own fidgety hands. The Sheriff had a knack for making him feel guilty. He had promised him again and again, countless times, that he wouldn’t get hurt next time.

“As much as I would love barring your windows, and covering you with cotton and bubble wrap, I know you’d find a way to get out anyway, because you want to save people – it’s who you are. And I trust Scott to keep you at least somewhat safe, and to bring you home without any missing limbs, okay?” John paused to give Stiles a calculating look. “So, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

The teen nodded, not really knowing what to say. He’d been feeling a never-ending guilt ever since Scott and he started fighting the malevolent creatures roaming Beacon Hills, because many times he’d come home with bruises. It helped when the Sheriff figured out what was going on, but it was still difficult for the man to see his son hurt, and for the teen to see John’s worry. The fact that his dad understood why he needed to do this was a relief to say the least.

The Sheriff looked at Stiles for a moment, and then promptly said:

“Well, then, get to school! You’re late, and you can’t hang here all day talking to your old man.”

Stiles _was_ late, so he drove as fast as he could. Scott was waiting for him by the door of the high school, and he had not even the tiniest mark to show for yesterday’s wrestle with the wolf. Stiles felt a twinge of jealousy.

Scott’s eyes widened when Stiles reached him.

“Shit, man, you look like death.”

“Thanks,” The human muttered sarcastically. “That’s kind of what happens when you’re almost killed.”

The day went by with the speed of a lazy snail. Biology, chemistry, social studies. Stiles had to remind himself over and over again that he was a senior, and that next year he wouldn’t have to go to school anymore – of course, then he’d be going to University. That became his mantra: “No High School next year”. And it helped for a while – until the time for detention neared.

Stiles walked toward detention as he would walk toward a noose that would be tightened around his neck: with apprehension and reluctance. The day before, Derek hadn’t even remembered his name. And the whole hour he’d sat in uncomfortable silence, sneaking glances at the teacher. It was utterly unfair that someone with the personality of a wet sock could have such good looks. And the worst thing was that Stiles had _liked_ Derek. He was challenging and moody, but he was so different from everyone else. That unique air he had around him – that quiet confidence with a hint of uncertainty lurking – it drew Stiles in. Derek Hale was a mystery, an enigma.

Too bad he was such a douche.

“Hello, Mr. Hale,” Stiles spit out without even trying to conceal his anger at the man. “It’s _Stiles_ , not Mick, and I’m here for detention.”

“Sit.” Derek said, not even bothering to glance up from the papers he was grading.

“With pleasure,” Stiles murmured sarcastically. He wanted Derek to be without a doubt of how much Stiles wanted to be anywhere else but here in this room with him.

He only _just_ stifled a wince as he sat down a bit to hastily. Stiles’ hand flew up to press soothingly against his bruised ribs, and he let out a calming breath.

Stiles was too preoccupied by the pain in his bones to notice how Derek’s head had whirled up to give the teen his absolute attention. His sharp gaze took in the bruised skin of the student’s face, and the hand that was pressed against the side of his stomach.

Again, if Stiles had been a bit more observant he might have heard the whisper of an enraged growl coming from the teacher’s throat. He might also have detected a flash of color in the man’s eyes. However, Stiles didn’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary. The teen frequently credited himself with having better-than-average observational skills, due to being best friends with a werewolf, and while it _was_ likely he was more observant than most humans; on that day, he was just painfully oblivious.

A second later, Derek appeared at Stiles’ side. He crouched by the chair to get a better look at his student’s face.

“Wha-” Stiles flinched as the older man reached out to him, but relaxed somewhat when Derek gently gripped his chin to tilt his face.

“Who did this, Stiles?” Derek whispered, and Stiles was struck by the emotions in his tone of voice.

“Oh, so _now_ you remember my name!” He said, but this time it wasn’t with any real bitterness. It was simply a way to avoid the man’s question.

“Stiles- please,” Derek’s voice sounded pained, and it only increased the confusion in Stiles.

Why did he even care?

The Hale’s hand was ever so gently stroking his bruised cheek, his other hand holding onto Stiles’ arm, and suddenly the pain in his ribs and face seemed to seep away.  
Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of being without pain, and when he opened his eyes again, Derek was gazing at him. Emotions were running wild on his face. The teen knew that Derek could just as well hide those emotions, as he could show them, and the fact that he let Stiles see him unguarded was a privilege and a gift.

Anger, sorrow, worry, and frustration slid across the teacher’s face.

It made Stiles want to sob as he ground out:

“I fell.”

He couldn’t even look Derek in the eyes as he said it. His chest was tight, and tears prickled in his eyes, but he did his best to hide it.

Derek’s hand gripped his jaw a bit more tightly, and Stiles’ gaze swung involuntarily up from the floor to meet the older man’s. He’d been worried that Derek would see through the lie, and that he would shut Stiles out because of it, but the man was looking at him with such open affection. Stiles’ heart clenched.

“It’s okay,” The older man murmured softly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I wish I could tell you!” Stiles groaned in frustration. He wanted to explain this to Derek, to make him understand that he would tell him everything if he could. “But that would result in telling you one of my friends’ secrets. And I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Derek seemed to think that statement through for a moment before responding.

“I’d like it better if this secret didn’t result in you getting hurt.” He said candidly.

This surprised Stiles. Yesterday, Derek had acted like he didn’t even know – least of all care about – him, and now he was being all sweet, and was _still_ holding onto his chin as if he simply couldn’t bare to let go.

“I’ll be more careful,” Stiles said, wincing inwardly at how those words mirrored the empty promise he kept telling his dad.  
The truth was, out on the streets, hunting supernatural beings; he was never sure whether he was going home in one piece. It was dangerous out there. Sure, Scott and Stiles were both being careful – as careful as you could be while trying to stop malicious creatures – but a lot of the time it was pure luck or coincidence that they weren’t killed.

Derek smiled at him, a warm smile that made butterflies flutter in the bottom of Stiles’ stomach.

How was it even fair that the man could affect him so strongly?

The teacher slowly stood up from his crouched position by Stiles’ chair. Stiles’ face tingled a bit where the man had stroked his skin.

“Are you okay now? You need anything?” The older man asked, and he responded by shaking his head. He couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. That painkiller he’d swallowed earlier must have finally kicked in…

After that, the two of them talked for a bit. The hour was almost up, but they’d still had enough time to talk about normal, everyday stuff: Game of Thrones, books they’d recently read, and pets they’d had when they were younger (Derek had had a couple of fish in a fish bowl but they’d ended up dying after a week – Stiles teased him about his poor capacity to take care of something as simple as fish).  
Stiles even showed Derek a picture of him from back when he’d had a buzz cut. The man said that he thought he looked cute. The word _cute_ echoed inside Stiles’ head for a while after detention ended.  


* * *

 

That night Scott and Stiles went out to get rid of the wolf spirit once and for all. If they weren’t successful this time, chances were someone would become this thing’s dinner. But this time they were determined to be ready for whatever came at them. Stiles would put up a parameter of wolfsbane, while it was Scott’s job to make the spirit chase him into the square of wolfsbane. Stiles would then close it, so they couldn’t get out, and Scott would wring its neck. Boom – dead. It was foolproof.

“This is the stupidest plan we’ve ever come up with.” Stiles groaned, pulling his jeep into the parking lot.

“But we don’t have a better one! Stop complaining, dude.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just really don’t want to – you know – _die_.” He said dramatically with flailing arms and wide eyes.

“Why do we even have to get it into the wolfsbane trap first? Can’t I just kill it without it?”

“Are you kidding? Did you see how fast it was yesterday? I mean, shit, _you_ have werewolf speed, but that thing was fricking insane. Within the boundaries of wolfsbane you have at least a chance of beating it, since it can’t run away like last time.” Stiles said, and Scott nodded in understanding. Neither of them mentioned that if the wolf hadn’t run away yesterday, their parents would probably be arranging their funerals right about now. As the wolf had turned around yesterday, running away from them, it had looked… _bored_. As if the two of them were easy pickings, so it didn’t even want to bother.  
Well, they were going to show it tonight, weren’t they? Stiles sure hoped so.

They looked around cautiously when they approached the alley they’d met the wolf spirit in the night before.

Stiles had the bottle with wolfsbane in his hand, and began distributing it in a thin line around the alleyway. Scott stood in the center of the outlined square of powder. Stiles left a small hole in the square, so the wolf spirit could enter it. When the wolf entered, Stiles would close it, sealing his best friend inside with the very dangerous supernatural creature. He did not feel good about it. But Stiles knew, of the two of them, Scott was the one with the biggest chance of defeating the wolf.

“What now?” Scott asked as the two looked around the empty alley. It was a dark night, and the air was chilly. Above them the moon could be seen slightly through the cover of thin clouds. The alley smelled of garbage and other things Stiles didn’t want to identify.

“I guess we’ll just wait until it sho-” He didn’t have to wait long, because in that moment he heard a deep, angry growl behind him. Scott yelled at him to get down. Stiles crouched low, making himself small and unnoticeable, while Scott flapped his arms in the air, and stomped in the ground, trying to provoke the wolf enough to attack.  
The alpha spirit leaped through the air, right past Stiles, and landed in the square of wolsbane. Stiles’ hands shook as he placed the powdery material into the gap of the square, sealing the two supernatural creatures inside.

He clapped his hands together in a “job well done” gesture, while he ignored the tight feeling of concern at seeing his best friend face off with a creature that had recently killed a man.

“Stiles?” A voice he’d recognize anywhere said from behind him.

“Shit.” Stiles hissed under his breath before turning to face Derek.

“Derek!” He said with fake enthusiasm. “A pleasure to see you! Let’s go this way.” He grabbed the older man’s arm, and tried to manhandle him out of the alley where a fight between two supernatural beings was currently in progress. Derek didn’t budge.

“Is-is that Scott?” He frowned in confusion.

“Hah, what- I don’t- Scott, yes, that’s him. Let’s go make out or something.” Stiles really wanted to get the man _out of there_ , but the teacher was strong as _frick_ , and didn’t move an inch despite Stiles’ attempts at bodily pushing him out of the alleyway.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Derek, we’re handling this, just please go!” Stiles begged.

“No, you are telling me right this instance.”

“Urgh,” Stiles groaned, and rubbed his eyes. Behind him, he could hear the loud sounds of fists hitting flesh, and moans of pain. Scott. _Scott_ was in pain. Shit, Stiles really had to help him, whether Derek was there or not.

“Yeah, okay, you won’t believe me, but Scott’s a werewolf, he’s currently fighting the physically manifested spirit of an alpha, and I need to help him.” When Stiles turned around, the sight that met him was a bruised and beaten Scott on his back on the ground, and with the wolf above him.

Stiles took a step forward, preparing to cross the line of wolfsbane, but something pulled him back harshly.

“Derek-”

“No, you are _not_ going in _there_.” He growled low, his face an inch from Stiles’, and he looked _pissed_. “Are you insane? You could die.”

“Let me go, I have to help Scott!” He yelled into Derek’s face. The older man glanced back at the wolfsbane square, where the wolf had Scott pinned underneath its heavy body, snapping at him with its teeth. Derek looked back at Stiles. Gangly, stupidly brave, fragile, _human_ Stiles.

“You’re still not going in there,” The teacher said with finality in his voice. “But if you make a hole in the line of wolfsbane, I’ll go in there.”

Stiles frowned. “How di-”

A moan of pain from Scott made Stiles jump into action, pushing back his questions for later. He ran to the line of powder, and removed part of it. A moment later, the Hale stepped into the square, and Stiles sealed it once again.

The teenager gaped in astonishment when the new addition to the square lunged at the wolf, knocking it off Scott, and onto the ground beside him. The wolf quickly regained its wits, and moved to stand up, but Derek was quicker. He kicked the wolf in its side, so it skidded along the ground. When the spirit pounced at Derek, the older man used the creature’s own momentum to smash it into the hard pavement.

“Mr. Hale,” Scott said with a weak voice, still lying on the ground clutching his already healing stomach. “Wring its neck.”

Derek nodded in understanding, and put his hands on the neck of the writhing wolf. A sharp _crack_ echoed in the alley, and silence followed. The wolf had gone limp underneath the teacher’s body. Stiles was still gaping. So much had happened in the last three minutes, and he wasn’t sure what to think of it all.

He was looking – staring, really – at Derek, and the man may have felt his gaze, because he looked up. Stiles gasped at the sight of his crimson red eyes.

_An alpha’s eyes_ , Stiles thought, staring unabashedly into the gaze of the werewolf. Time seemed to stop as the two of them looked at each other. It suddenly occurred to Stiles that Derek was waiting for a reaction. He was awaiting a look of disgust, fear, or anything else. Instead, Stiles sent him a smile. The smile widened at the look of relief on Derek’s face. Derek’s eyes roamed Stiles’ body for a second, probably looking for injuries, but that didn’t stop Stiles from giving him a ‘like what you see’-wriggle of his eyebrows.

“Guys, stop that, there’s literally a wolf’s corpse _right there_ , what’s wrong with you.” Scott groaned. He seemed to have healed somewhat, because a moment later he stood up from the ground.

“Stop what?” Stiles asked innocently. “I think you hit your head, Scott, you’re talking nonsense.”

“Sure,” Scott said, not sounding convinced at all. “Now, let us out of here.”

Stiles removed enough wolfsbane for the werewolves to exit the square, and when they were out, Scott turned to the teacher.

“I didn’t know you were a werewolf, Mr. Hale.”

“Just call me Derek. I think we’re a bit past surnames.”

“ _Hey_!” Stiles interjected, sounding offended. “How come you’ve never invited _me_ to call you by your first name?”

“Because you just do it, whether I say you can or not.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles muttered, and asked Scott: “And yeah, how come you didn’t know Derek was a werewolf? Don’t you usually pick it up in their scent?”

Scott just shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a science or anything, sometimes I pick up on it, other times I don’t…”

They started walking back to Stiles’ jeep. In the darkness of the parking lot, a Camaro was parked right beside his car. Derek walked to it.

“Derek,” Stiles called after the retreating back of the older man, because a thought had just occurred to him. “Why were you here tonight?”

The Hale stopped up with a hand on the car door. He looked back at Stiles with a crooked smile. Then he just shrugged.

“See you two tomorrow.” Derek called out of the open window as he drove away.  


* * *

 

The next morning, Stiles was the epitome of exhaustion. He considered just staying home from school, but the thought of seeing Derek motivated him enough to push that – though very tempting – thought aside.

He shoveled a bowl of cornflakes into his mouth at the kitchen table, while his dad commented the lack of new bruises.

“Yeah, last night went way smoother than the night before that.” He said vaguely, and offered no explanation as to why. Derek’s secret wasn’t his to tell, even though the Sheriff did know about werewolves.

At the school, Scott waited for him outside.

“What’s our first class?” Stiles asked.

“English,” Scott said with a meaningful look. Stiles was not impressed.

“What’s that?” He pointed at his friend’s face.

“What?”

“ _That_. On your face. That look. What is it?” Stiles asked again.

“My face?”

“Nah, that’s not your face. If you have something to say, just say it.”

“What? Okay, well, you do get a certain dreamy look every time you mention Derek, so I just thought…” Scott trailed off.

“No…?” Stiles said. He was going for a firm, definite tone, but it came out sounding more like a question.

“No?” Scott teased, and bumped Stiles with a shoulder.

“It don’t know…” Stiles was ready to let the conversation drop right there, but Scott had apparently more to say.

“If you’ve somehow gotten it into your dumb head that a guy like Derek wouldn’t go for a guy like you, then you need to smarten up, you idiot!”

“Ouch, so many insults on my intelligence in one sentence.” Stiles said, but his voice sounded hollow, so Scott knew he’d hit spot-on.

“Seriously, Stiles,” He said as he dumped his bag by a table in the classroom. “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Stiles was quiet but a teasing smile slowly spread on his face. “Is this your way of telling me you’ve had a crush on me all these years? Aww, Scott, why didn’t you say so?”

Scott huffed in mock annoyance, and rolled his eyes.

“Good morning, class,” The teacher said from the front of the classroom. “I hope your substitute teacher has treated you good these past few days.”

Stiles gaped in surprise, and widened his eyes in Scott’s direction. Scott mouthed ‘where’s Derek?’, and Stiles shrugged, and put his hand up.

“I would like to get started on th- Yes, Stilinski?” Mr. Roebuck asked.

“Where’s Der- Mr. Hale?”

“Yes, where _do_ the substitutes go when the teachers return to work?” He said sarcastically. “As I was saying, I’ll be guiding you through-”

“I just meant, weren’t he supposed to be here all week?” Stiles interrupted brazenly, and the teacher glared at him, but answered nonetheless.

“Yes, he was, but _luckily_ ,” Mr. Roebuck hissed. “I’m no longer ill, as you can see, and will therefore not be needing a substitute anymore.”

Stiles spent the rest of the time in class feeling a mixture between anger and confusion (“Did Derek know he wouldn’t be coming to work today?”), sadness (“What if we don’t see each other again? Beacon Hills is small but it’s not _that_ small, and in a month I’m graduating High School, so I won’t be seeing him here.”), and worry about whether he’d always liked Derek more than Derek liked him.

“Dude,” Scott whispered to him. “Stop with the thinking. Your emotions are all over the place, I can’t concentrate.”

“Sorry.” Stiles whispered back, and Scott gave him a gentle smile.

“He likes you. If you’re worrying about never seeing him again, don’t, because you two definitely have something.”

His best friend’s words helped. They got him through the rest of the classes. He guessed that’s why people have best friends. Because they help when times are tough. Stiles still looked around every corner, trying to spot a leather jacket and dark hair – but no such luck. The halls of the High School were distinctly lacking of Derek Hale’s presence.

 

* * *

 Stiles just parked his jeep by the house, when he noticed another car.

A Camaro.

And a Camaro by his house could only mean one thing.

_Derek_.

Just as he’d figured, Derek Hale was sitting on his doorstep.

“This is a nice surprise.” Stiles called as he walked up, drawing the attention of the sitting man.

Derek flashed him a bright smile, and stood up with, what Stiles could now see, was two to-go cups of coffee.

“I just thought you’d like a cup of coffee after a long day of school.” He said nonchalantly, but with a glint in his eyes. “It’s from Puzzles.” Derek said as Stiles took a sip from one of the cups.

“Hmm, I’d almost thought you wouldn’t say goodbye.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Goodbye? Why would I say that? I’d hoped we would see more of each other.”

The teenager grinned at him, and gestured to the house.

“You wanna come in?”

Inside they sat on the couch, a good shy feet of distance between them.

“I didn’t know I wouldn’t be seeing you today. Yesterday, I mean, when I said that I’d see you tomorrow. And then when I came home, I saw a message from your teacher saying he wasn’t ill anymore…” Derek said. He looked shyer than Stiles had ever seen him be.

“I wasn’t worried about that.” He responded almost automatically, and when Derek smiled crookedly, Stiles knew he heard that little irregularity in his heart beat.

_Damn werewolves_.

“Okay, I thought about it for a bit, but it’s good to know that you didn’t, well, know.” Stiles corrected.

Their coffees stood untouched on the coffee table.

“Also…” Derek began, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yesterday, I… followed you to the alley. I was just so worried about you getting hurt again, so I didn’t know what else t-”

“Derek!” Stiles interrupted the teacher’s ramblings. “It’s okay, I- well, I kinda figured you’d followed me – I mean, come on, what are the chances of you turning up at the exact same alley where Scott and I were fighting an evil spirit at midnight?”

Derek thought on that for a moment before breathing out a shy “Oh.”

“Anyway, you were saying you want to see more of me?” Stiles said.

“Yes, well, in a month I won’t even be your teacher anymore…” Derek said, and let the sentence trail off uncertainly.

“You aren’t my teacher now.” Stiles grinned, and covered the distance between them on the couch. Their faces were a couple of inches apart, and apprehension filled the air around them.

“I’m not, am I?”

“Not even a little bit…”

Their lips connected, and Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s hair with a hand. It was warm and delicious and it was their first kiss. To be honest, it was Stiles’ first kiss _ever_. Once, he’d hoped Lydia Martin would be the one to steal his first kiss, but right in that moment, he was so glad that he would always have this with Derek.

They broke away for air, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Derek’s gaze was the same as that day in detention when he had seen Stiles bruised, except there was no worry to be seen – only pure affection.

Stiles didn’t know how long this relationship would last – nobody ever knew with this kind of stuff – but he hoped it would last for a long while.

They kissed again, and Stiles tasted the coffee on Derek’s tongue together with a certain earthy sweetness that was all Derek. With his hands he explored the rough stubble on the older man’s jaw, and he followed it to his chin, and down his throat.

A sudden, curious thought made Stiles pull away from the other man. He looked into the werewolf’s eyes, the ones that had, the night before, shone a bright red.

“This doesn’t even matter anymore, not really, but how come you were so awful to me after we’d met in the coffee shop? You pretended like you didn’t even know my name…?” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but failed miserably.

Derek leaned forward so their foreheads touched, and pressed a brief chaste kiss to Stiles’ mouth.

“I was afraid.”

The answer made Stiles frown. “Afraid?”

“That if you knew what I was, you wouldn’t want me. I’ve never-” Derek paused to let out a deep sigh. “I’ve never had these feelings for anyone other than you, Stiles. The thought of you rejecting me for being a werewolf – which felt like a very real possibility – it was painful. Idiotically, I thought distancing myself from you, making you hate me for even a moment, would solve that problem.”

Stiles smothered a smile, and bit Derek’s bottom lip briefly before saying:

“You are such an idiot,” He said in a mock-serious tone. “So, I guess I will consider forgiving you, then.”

The older man laughed. “ _Consider_ , huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, Stiles, I have an utterly adorable puppy dog face I haven’t shown you yet, but I can assure you that if I’m forced to use it, you won’t be able to resist forgiving me.”

“You’ll be surprised. I’ve had a lot of practice defying Scott though his puppy dog face is unparalleled.” Stiles said, and left a fluttering of butterfly kisses along Derek’s jaw.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Derek skillfully flipped Stiles, so he was lying with his back on the couch, and needless to say, the older man didn’t get to show his puppy dog face that day, but it didn’t matter anyway – they had all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> You are all very welcome to leave Kudos and comments, because then I will love you!


End file.
